


Broken Dreams

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Series: Angelfire Universe [14]
Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 02:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19454161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: It's not easy to conduct a long-distance (holographic) relationship, and when Sam leaps into the life of a family whose loved one was MIA in Vietnam, it brings up a lot of difficult issues for both Sam and Al.  A tale of love, loss, hope, and closure.  Will this be the leap Sam can't complete?  Part of the Angelfire Universe (best read in order, as their relationship progresses through each story).





	Broken Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1992. Another one I finally typed into the computer after existing only in hard copy. Published in Quantum Fire #3. Knowledge of the episode, "The Leap Home," especially the Vietnam part, is helpful to understand the situation of the story.

December 11, 1991

Blue light faded into a hazy orange glow. I blinked, bringing the candle flames into sharper focus. I glanced away from the bright light, letting my eyes adjust to the shadows. My other senses kicked in, helping to make sense out of the situation. In a moment I had all the information available to me.

The candles were on a cake that said, HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOBBY. Several people stood around the table with me, singing Happy Birthday. The woman on my right elbowed me in the ribs. I got the hint and joined in, wondering whose birthday it was.

When they finished, to my further confusion, everyone leaned forward and blew out the candles together.

“Happy Birthday, Bobby,” an older man rumbled in a rough voice. “Come home to us soon.”

A woman turned on the overhead light, and I narrowed my eyes against the glare. I ended up staring at something I'd missed before. A framed photo was set up behind the cake A young man in an Air Force uniform gazed into the camera with a smile bright with tomorrow's promise. _Bobby_.

“Oh boy...”

I averted my gaze from the photo. Looking at it gave me the creeps. The whole thing was suddenly too uncomfortable for my liking.

I felt the woman next to me slip an arm through mine. I tried a small smile, wondering if she might be my sister.

She dashed my faint hope by kissing me lightly on the lips. “Thanks for being a part of this, Jack,” she whispered into my ear, and then kissed it.

“It's Bobby's favorite,” the older woman explained, handing me a slice of cake. “Devil's food.”

“Oh, yeah?” I mumbled. “Thanks.”

As I took the plate, I noticed a bracelet on my wrist, recognizing it as one of the POW/MIA bracelets popular during and following the Vietnam war. _Not again..._ The Powers-That-Be obviously thought me an expert on the subject. All I really wanted to do was forget about it. I read the name on the bracelet, Bobby Newfile. The boy in the picture?

We were all ushered into the living room by Bobby's mother, who I learned was named Molly, and the others spent the rest of the evening reminiscing. I just tried to keep up. Molly and Bob Senior talked with love and pain of their MIA son, relating tales from infancy to the day he left for 'Nam... promising he'd return. It all depressed me, reminding me of things I'd thought behind me. At least _my_ family had been spared this uncertainty of not knowing, in the first timeline. Al... no, I didn't want to think about _that._

I'd leaped into their son-in-law Jack Martin, was married to their daughter Annie. We lived with the Newfiles, and he...I... worked at Bob's deli. They were quiet, middle class people, who worked hard and went to church every Sunday.

Around ten the family decided to retire. As they bid their good-nights, Annie hung behind. “Coming, honey?” she asked, hand on my shoulder.

Looking into her crystal blue eyes, I felt guilty. “I'll be up soon.”

Annie paused. “I know how you feel about things, yet even though you keep telling me we should let go, you went along with today. It meant a lot to the folks. And I love you for that.” She bent down to place a loving kiss on my cheek, then disappeared up the stairs.

I sat on the sofa, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock. The quiet of a sleeping house settled around me. I'd always liked being the only soul awake, soaking up the atmosphere of peaceful slumber that emanates from a loving household... Except this one was tainted with bitter hopes and prayers.

I remembered my own family, after the news of Tom's death reached us. We'd wandered around the house in a daze at first, sleepwalkers engaged in a waking nightmare. Mom would burst into tears in the middle of some mundane chore, and Katie's eyes were always red. It was the first time tragedy had touched my young life. That was when my slow alienation from the family began. I remembered feeling guilty for being the son to survive. The happy days of childhood were forever ended. _God, I miss you all..._

Memory could be a double-edged sword. I was very insistent on keeping the first timeline in mine for good reasons. Now, I had to accept the painful parts too. I'd graduated from high school with the biggest hangover of my life. My first days of college were a blur...

I decided to let that particular memory fade from my mind. It never happened, unless I wanted to give it reality. My family never had to suffer like that – thanks to Al. The burden of his sacrifice for me had weighed heavily on my mind since, but now, thinking of it in terms of what he'd spared my family, I was grateful. It was just another cross we bore together.

“Dammit, Al, where the hell are you?!” I growled into the air, wishing for a distraction from my thoughts.

“Is that any way to talk to the man who loves you?” the voice I was crazy about inquired.

I smiled, looking towards him. My blue mood vanished as I gazed appreciatively at the rather tight gold pants he wore, topped off with a short, form fitting gold jacket over a rainbow colored shirt.

“You're looking sharp tonight,” I observed, eyes going back to the pants.

Al gave a quizzical look. “Are you feeling all right?”

“More than, actually.” I nodded towards the outfit. “Is that for _my_ benefit, or...” I let it trail off, with a gleam in my eye.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The pants, or the hard-on?”

“Al Calavicci!” I exclaimed. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

“ _Me_? You're the one that complained about my baggy pants.”

“Can we change the subject?” I begged. Suddenly he was providing the wrong kind of distraction.

“Your wish is my command, sweetie.” He looked down at the handlink. “What do you already know?”

“My name, the family I'm part of.” I fell silent, dreading having to discuss the reason I was there... I already knew.

“Okay. You're in Dayton, Ohio. It's December 11, 1991.”

“1991?” I did some instant calculations. The fact that Bobby was MIA in Vietnam meant... he'd been missing for at _least_ sixteen years. Sixteen years of birthday cakes. I groaned. “I hope this is a quick leap.”

“Depends on you, I guess.” Al was watching me closely. “Care to take a guess as to why you're here?”

“Their son, Bobby.”

Al nodded. “Missing in action since June of '69, when his plane was shot down.”

“I don't want to hear this,” I complained uselessly.

“Since today is his birthday, I'd be willing to bet that you've figured out they're still hurting. They refuse to accept the fact that he'd never coming home.”

“Do they ever get confirmation of his death?” I shot out.

Al looked at me a moment before answering. “No,” he began slowly “But things get more dismal as time goes by. Because they refuse to get on with their lives, Molly has a nervous breakdown and never fully recovers. Jack and Annie eventually get a divorce. Jack has a heart attack from the stress.”

“Divorce?” Al nodded. I could tell they were in love. I also knew why they broke up. “He wants them to give up waiting.”

“He's right, Sam.”

I stared at Al until he looked away. He seemed to know he'd already said too much on the topic. Unfortunately, it was why we were there. “If Jack was on the right track, why am I here?”

“Ziggy says--” Al began.

“I know, the odds are really high. Spare me.”

Al faced me squarely. “Because Jack didn't try hard enough. He went along with his wife's wishes out of love. In the end it tore the family up.” He stepped closer to me. “I don't like that look.”

“You shouldn't. Al, this is not a leap for me. I can't...”

Al cut me off with a raised hand. “Why don't we give it a few days, feel out the situation? Maybe another alternative will present itself.”

“Yeah. There's always hope,” I said wryly.

“I'm going back and have a long talk with Jack,” he told me. “If we brainstorm, I'm sure we'll come up with something.” He paused at his door. “Are you okay for now?”

“I have to be, don't I?” I answered bitterly.

Al sighed heavily. “Okay. I'm sick and tired of fighting with you over things that are for your own good. If you need me, I'm here, so when I ask you'd best tell me the truth. If you sit up and mope all night, it'll be your own choice.” His voice softened. “See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, love.”

“Al,” I stopped his exit. “If they're of _you_ , they will be. And you owe me a kick in the butt.”

“ _One_?” He smiled and winked.

XXX

The following morning I went with Bob to the deli. By afternoon I was bored and only mildly paying attention to what was going on around me. What I'd heard so far was mainly pleasant small talk. Besides, it had nothing to do with why I was there, for that, no amount of idle chatter would bring me any closer to how to help this family.

Al popped in while I was slicing meat for a party platter. He watched me for a moment before speaking.

“How's it going, cutie?”

I shrugged. Luckily, Bob was in the front talking with a customer about the new dry cleaners in the neighborhood. I could hear them, but if I kept my voice low, Al and I could talk unobserved.

“What kind of answer is that?” he asked of the gesture.

“It's going fine, if I never want to get a job in a deli. Otherwise, nothing much is happening. Do you have any more information for me.?”

He was silent for a minute, eyes on the meat slicer. Finally he sighed. “You could be using the time to talk to Bob about... things,” he forced out reluctantly.

There was no way to avoid the discussion. I'd had a hint of Al's position on the situation the previous night. It wasn't so surprising, Ziggy's predictions were usually Al's opinions, especially when it concerned my leaping. “I don't have enough information yet,” I told him. “I'm not convinced the answer is getting them to give up.”

“I know.” He was being less than talkative and I began to suspect a reason.

I stare at him until he met my eyes.

“Shouldn't you be watching what you're doing?” he asked, glancing down at the slicer a bit nervously.

“I know what I'm doing, M.H.”

“M.H.?”

“Mother hen.”

“Just pay attention to your slicing,” Al groused. “Okay. Sam,” he got to business. “Don't you think that after 22 years, it's time to give up on false hope and get on with life?”

I slammed the bologna down on the counter and picked up the turkey roll. “Would I be right to force them to do something I myself wouldn't?” I glared at him meaningfully.

“If your brother--”

I pulled the turkey off the slicer and threw it down beside the bologna viciously, even though I wasn't finished with it. “My brother is alive and well and has nothing to do with this!”

Al walked away, and for a minute I thought he was going to leave. When he turned to me, the look in his eyes made me instantly sorry for my behavior. I wiped my hands on my apron and came around the front of the table, leaning against it.

“I'm sorry, Al. I always take it out on you when things don't go the way I want them to, don't I?”

He shrugged dismissively. “That's what I'm here for.”

I shook my head, lowering my voice more. “No, it isn't. You're here to be my life partner. You deserve better than to be used as my punching bag.”

“Oh, Sam... save it. For better or worse, remember? And you've got a leap to worry about, you don't need to complicate it like this. Especially when we're going to find enough to argue about in this leap.”

“You really believe I'm here to get them to forget their son and brother?”

Al sighed impatiently. “No, not forget him, just accept that he's gone. Your own feelings are clouding your judgment.”

“Then tell Jack to keep at it until he convinces his wife and family, and send _him_ back here, 'cause I can't deal with this one.”

“I'll keep digging, see if I can't come up with _something_ more to help convince you.” Al pointed his cigar at the slicer behind me. “And be careful with that thing!”

I nodded to placate him, exasperated. After he left, I went back to work.

XXX

I sat in the living room that evening, reading the newspaper. Bob was off to the store, picking up a few things for his wife. Molly and Annie were in the kitchen making dinner.

I had to admit one thing. The dull life they led had a hollow ring to it, as if they were robots going through the motions of day to day living. There was no spark, no enthusiasm. Maybe I could find a way to teach them that having hope should mean fighting back fiercely. Giving in to despair was giving up, in my mind.

When I heard the sound of the Imaging Chamber door, I hastily put the paper aside and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Hi, Al,” I greeted pleasantly.

“Hey Sweetie, how did work go?”

“Just as boring after you left as before. But hey,” I began, eager to fill him in on my idea. “I think I figured out how to help them. All I have to do is find a way to convince them that there's a difference between honoring the person with hope, and giving up living because they're not here.”

Al turned from his perusal of the bookshelves to regard me skeptically. His gaze flickered to my pockets, and I shifted uncomfortably. Al rarely missed anything, damn him.

Annie took that moment to poke her head through the door. “Jack, dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes.”

“Okay,” I told her, glad of the distraction.

With her next words, the jig was up. “Is your hand still throbbing?” she asked me with concern.

“Uh, no, it's fine,” I assured.

Annie disappeared back into the kitchen.

I didn't have to look at Al to feel his eyes on me. I met them sheepishly and took my hands out of my pockets, revealing the white gauze on one finger.

Al's gaze zeroed in on the evidence.

“It's not a very big cut,” I told him.

Al said nothing.

“It only took two stitches,” I added hopefully.

“I'm glad I never had kids,” Al mumbled, further shrinking me down.

“Can we get onto business?” I implored.

“Gladly. I do have a little bit for you this time, though I don't know how helpful it's gonna be. See that bookcase over there? I noticed a bunch of **Newsweeks** , so there's a good chance they'll have the article I want you to read. Check for the July 29, 1991 issue.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and here's an interesting note. See that POW bracelet you're wearing?”

“Yeah, I wondered about that. Was it Annie's?”

Al shook his head. “Jack got it in 1974, just happened to get Bobby's name. Then, ten years later he coincidentally ran into Annie in a department store. They hit it off, married a year later.”

“Kind of...romantic, in a way.”

Al snorted. “If you say so.”

Bob came in through the front door, shopping bag in his arms.

“I'd better go now,” Al said, bringing up the I.C. door. Before he left, he pointed at the bookcase. “Read that article.”

XXX

_He was in the jungle. The moist, oppressive air transformed into rivers of sweat that ran down his body. His clothes stuck to him like a cloak of burial. The hum and buzz of a thousand insects roared in his ears until he could hear nothing else. Fear walked beside him, grinning its hideous death mask, yet there was nothing else he could do but keep walking. They were waiting for him; he had to go to them. Panic should have stopped him in his tracks, but he pressed on._

_Suddenly, something jumped out at him from the bushes. He knew it would, yet he screamed in shock anyway. It was mostly a skeleton, though there was still pink and brown flesh clinging to its bones in places, like tattered clothing on a street bum._

_He took a step back, holding out his hands as if trying to ward it off. “No...”_

_“It? I'm an **it**?” The thing read his mind and yelled at him. “Well, I was a person yesterday! I had a family, a loving girlfriend. We were going to be married. She can't marry **this**!” It grabbed a piece of rotted flesh, pulling it off its body in a long strip and flinging the flesh at him._

_The piece clung to his arm and he frantically tried to get it off but couldn't. Too terrified to scream, he merely stared at the image before him._

_Another corpse joined this one. “I had a family too. A wife. You're not the only one that has a family you know, everyone has one. All of us. Yet you think you can decide our fate. This –“ It pushed a hand through it's chest and pulled out its own heart, throwing the organ at his feet. “Is your fault. I could have gone home – we all could have gone **home**!”_

_Several more bodies appeared in the clearing._

_“Who are you?!” he finally found the voice to shout. “Why are you doing this?”_

_They cackled, bits of teeth flying out of their mouths._

_“We're the POW's you left behind,” one of them told him. “The ones you didn't care about!”_

_“You knew Al wasn't the **only** POW waiting to be released. Did you really think we'd all survive those extra two years?”_

_“Please...” Sam sobbed, falling to his knees._

_One of the bodies came closer, and he looked up. The face was almost intact, although most of the body was mangled beyond recognition. It was Bobby Newfile's face._

_“You're wrong,” the face taunted him. “Wrong. I'm never coming home. I'm dead. Dead, because of--”_

“NO!” My eyes shot open but all I could see was darkness. Something was pinning my arms and I struggled instinctively, whimpering. Finally I gave up fighting and sagged. It took a moment to get my bearings, then I was able to make out faint outlines of furniture. The arms were around me, holding me gently. A voice was worriedly trying to bring me out of my nightmare.

_Nightmare._

“Oh God,” I sobbed, starting to shake from reaction.

“Shh...” Annie soothed, rocking me slightly in her arms. “It was just a bad dream. It's okay.”

I turned my head into her shoulder, concentrating on trying to get my breathing back to normal. Her arms were a welcome, caring presence, even if it was her husband Jack her comfort was meant for. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Eventually I calmed enough to place a kiss of gratitude on her cheek.

“That must have been a doozy,” Annie commented, pulling away a little to look at me. “It's a good thing we have thick walls, or you would have scared the daylights out of the folks.”

“I can honestly say it was the worst nightmare I've ever had.”

“Want to talk about it? It might help.”

“Absolutely not.” I shuddered as a film negative-like image of the scene flashed in my head.

Annie sensed I wasn't ready to go right back to sleep again. “I know just what you need.” She kissed me and slipped out of bed. 'I'll be right back.” The door closed behind her.

I took a deep breath, pulling the blankets up around me. I didn't want to think about the dream, but it was hard not to, since I was still shaking from it. I guessed the **Newsweek** had been the catalyst to trigger it. The article mostly recounted stories of families like this one, who kept up their hope all those years, still believing that one day their loved ones might return.

The dream had brought out a painful realization for me, personally. I'd been so busy concentrating on Al's personal sacrifice, I never once gave a thought to the other POW's with him. I couldn't even remember how many there were. Maggie wasn't the only victim we'd sacrificed in that jungle. It made his act of love all the more incredible. I knew that if I lived forever, I'd still not be able to even the score between us. My soul wasn't theirs, it was Al's.

Annie came back and handed me a mug, then settled into bed again. “Warm milk. Best cure for nightmares.”

I brought the mug to my lips. “With a cherry?”

“It's a special surprise that keeps the bad dreams away,” she said with a smile.

“Naw, that's _you_ , I told her with a kiss. I finished the milk, and settled against Annie again. I needed the comfort.

There was a few minutes of silence before she spoke in my ear. “You're afraid to go back to sleep, aren't you?”

I nodded, feeling foolish. “I know it sounds silly, but the more you dwell on a bad dream the more likely it is to recur. I'm not having much luck forgetting this one.”

“Sure you can,” Annie said, putting her arms around my neck. “You've had your cherry, now it's time for your _special_ surprise...”

I had no doubt that she knew just how to make me forget about the nightmare. I smiled, pulling her closer to me. “I love surprises...” My lips met hers.

XXX

Things went steadily downhill from there. I became obsessed with learning the fate of those other POW's with Al. I took off work and spent the day at libraries and various government offices. All it left me with was frustration, and a greater appreciation for the families I'd read about that were getting a government run around.

I could have done it the easy way and asked Al, but I was determined not to bring up bad memories for him. I figured I'd done enough damage for one lifetime. Besides, if I believed in the hope of those families, why shouldn't I also hope there was a chance Al had never realized what I just had recently?

I stopped by a video place and rented 'Good Morning, Vietnam,” picked up some microwave popcorn, and headed home to put my plan into action.

XXX

That evening after the parents went to bed, I threw the popcorn into the microwave while Annie went to change into something more comfortable to watch TV in. That was when Al showed up.

“How's it going?” he asked.

“Oh, about the same as it was,” I answered evasively.

“How's the finger?”

I wiggled it at him. “Still attached. 'Course I noticed a bit of green...” I teased.

“Sam, what are you going to do about the leap?” Apparently he was through beating around the bush.

“I need more time, Al. Relax, I don't have a deadline, do I?” At the negative shake of his head, I continued. “I know you don't agree with me about how to handle this, but that's nothing new. I know it's not going to be easy, but if I can get them to taken an interest in life again, I know they'll be on the right track.”

“Maybe,” Al conceded. “Just how do you plan on doing that?”

“Talk to them. I spent all day today in the library, getting more information to help convince them.” Maybe not the entire truth, but close enough.

“To convince them not to give up, but to get on with their lives?” he asked as if to be sure he'd understood me correctly.

“That's right. Obviously it's going to take some time. I'm going to have a long talk with Annie tonight, okay?”

“I guess it'll have to be.” Al ran a hand over his face, then punched up the IC door. “I'll check in tomorrow then.” He paused, then continued. “Jack misses his wife.” With those parting words, he was gone.

XXX

When the movie was over, Annie turned to me. “Was that supposed to be some kind of hint?” she asked suspiciously.

“No. Actually, I...I've changed my mind.” There was doubt in the eyes that regarded me. “I don't want you to forget your brother, honey. I just...I hate seeing this zombie-like existence you all live in. It hurts. Can't you see that remembering and letting your own lives die are two different things? Look at the articles I brought home, _really_ look at them”

Annie picked up one of the magazines, regarding it thoughtfully.

“What do you think Bobby would say if he could see you now?”

Annie chuckled. “His favorite saying was that old cliché, 'if you're not part of the solution you're part of the problem.'”

“Maybe it's a cliché for a reason. Has the way you're living solved anything?”

Annie shook her head. “No, I'm ashamed to say. All these families... if we all worked together to uncover the truth... Maybe we should lend our hope to the situation. Do you think it would be a good idea to become involved?”

“I think it would be a great idea,” I told her, excited by where the things were leading. “Instead of sitting around moping, let's _do_ something.”

“Not bad for a guy who can't even slice a piece of bologna after all these years without almost chopping off his finger,” she quipped, and kissed me.

XXX

There are still 2,266 POW/MIAs unaccounted for in Vietnam. A Senate investigation is in progress, however, there is a possibility that the U.S., in it's haste to normalize relations with Vietnam and reap the benefits of its oil-producing potential, may drop the trade embargo without insisting on a full accounting.

\--From LEGION Magazine, August 1992

XXX

Things really snowballed after that. There was a major family meeting over breakfast, and they all admitted they were letting life pass them by. I left for work on an optimistic note, assuring Bob I could handle things alone and telling him to take the day off for a change. It was the least I could do after my disappearing act the previous day.

Early in the afternoon I had a visit from my holographic lover. One look at his face and the smile left mine.

“What is it?” I asked with trepidation.

“That's what I should be asking _you_!” he exclaimed. “I keep forgetting how little time it takes you to screw things up!”

“Huh?”

“When I left you last night, you were going to give them a balance between hope and living... now you've turned them into terrorists in training!”

“What are you talking about, Al?” He had to be grossly exaggerating. Didn't he?

“Bob is down at the American Legion Hall as we speak, organizing a major protest. Sam, this is not good. All you've done is make them as obsessed as you've become.”

Shock gave birth to anger. “Isn't it better than being an apathetic zombie? It's their choice to cling to their son, they have that right. I certainly don't have a prayer in hell of convincing these strangers otherwise.”

“Do you want to hear what Ziggy has to say about it?”

“No. Why should I? You haven't been listening to _me_.”

“Sam...”

“I _can't!_ ” I yelled, then continued more quietly. “I can't do what you're asking.”

“Then you aren't going to leap.”

The next moment I was staring at the empty space where he'd been.

XXX

I'd given the family a reason to fight. Unfortunately, I was rapidly going in the opposite direction. I had the dream again that night, and spent the rest of the sleepless hours until daylight holding onto Annie and trying to pretend everything was going to be all right. I didn't even understand how things had gone so wrong. One minute everything was looking up, the next...

They went to a meeting of the local Vietnam Family group, I stayed home and moped. I had to admit, if my idea had been such a great one, I would have leaped already. What I'd told Al still held though. I had to be true to _myself_ , follow my own judgment. It refused to let me coerce these people into giving their son up for dead.

Al visited for a brief and stilted semi-conversation that day, but there really wasn't much for us to say to each other. My sense of panic was building and his reticence only added to it. I expected more arguing, though I guessed he was giving it time to see if I would change my mind.

The following day Al didn't show at all. By that time I was going out of my mind. The dream wasn't helping, it only got worse every night, deepening my depression. Even Maggie was there now, like the others, asking me why I sent her to die.

After my usual routine of nightmare and sex, I padded downstairs to curl up in the chair by the window, listening to the grandfather clock and stare out at the residential street bathed in the hauntingly artificial glow of the streetlight outside.

“Sam,” a quiet voice called.

It didn't come as a shock, I'd felt his presence before I heard him...although it surprised me that I had, under the circumstances. I felt about as far apart from him as we could get.

“I wish I could, Al,” I told him in a flat voice, without looking at him. “You're wasting your time.”

“Guess who I talked to today?” he continued as if I hadn't spoken.

“Yeah, who?” I asked, not hiding the fact that I didn't care.

“Tom.”

My head snapped around in shock. “What?”

“We had lunch and got talking about the war, one Navy vet to another. We had a nice long 'hypothetical' conversation. He said that if he was ever MIA for that many years, he'd want his family to lead the most normal lives they could. It would hurt him to know that the only way they could deal was to make death and war their lives. I agree, Sam.” Al gave me a meaningful look. “I was wrong back then. No big surprise, right? Thank God Beth had more brains than I did. Look how many years I spent living in the past? Much of it was time I didn't use to full potential.”

Then it hit me... the truth had been there all the long, I just hadn't seen it until now. The bitter taste of victory in my mouth told me I now had him. “ _I'm_ MIA, aren't I, Al?” I asked, watching his mouth drop open. “Or maybe they already think I'm dead?”

The resignation was in his eyes, acknowledgment of something whose day he'd known would come eventually. That day was now. I'd asked THE question, with help from quite a nice lead-in from him.

“The government originally wanted to tell your family you were dead. I convinced them to change the official story to missing,” he forced the words out.

“Tell them I'm dead, Al,” I said almost tauntingly. “It doesn't look like I'm gonna complete this leap, so you might as well. We don't want them living with false hope, do we? As a matter of fact,” I choked out the rest. “Maybe _you_ should get a life, too.”

Al flinched, but answered in a quiet voice. “I have the only life I want.”

“Do you?” I continued cruelly. What did they always say? I'd heard it on the radio the other day. _Cruel to be kind, means that I love you..._ “What kind of life is this, Al?” I got up and reached out on purpose, arms passing through him. “What kind of relationship is this? It's just a cruel, sick travesty. It isn't real.”

Al reacted as if I'd slapped his face, but stepped closer. “ _This_ ,” he reached out to place a hand in the vicinity of my cheek, touching air, “is more real to me than anything I've ever had before.”

“Jack?” Annie's concerned voice called, followed by her appearance in the room. She came towards me, stepping through Al's image unknowingly. “I got up to go to the bathroom and heard yelling.” She slipped an arm around me.

“I...guess I fell asleep on the chair.”

“That nightmare _again_?” she asked worriedly, and I nodded.

Al's eyes widened just a little at the mention of nightmares. “Maybe it isn't real to _you_ ,” he continued our conversation, eyes on the arm around me. “If you gotta be stuck somewhere, I guess this isn't such a bad deal. But just remember, while you're sticking to your lofty principles – you're robbing Jack of the wife he loves. And me of the only thing I dared to want for myself in a long time.”

He left without a glance back.

I stood rooted to the spot, more confused than I ever remembered being. Somehow I'd thought I was doing this for Al. I promised him I wouldn't give up on him like Beth had. _I promised._ Yet suddenly it had all backfired. I'd told Al to give up on me, but I wouldn't give up on him...my actions on the leap proved that. In not giving up on him, I'd have to give up on someone else. Yet he told he'd want me to give up on him, while refusing to give up on me... It went around and around until I felt like an android in an episode of Star Trek, trying to understand circular human logic.

Maybe I was wrong. I must have been; regardless, at that point I didn't care who was. All I wanted to do was whatever Al told me to. And leave this place.

I wondered if it was already too late.

XXX

I was actually afraid Al might not show up again. All I could do was wait. At work I didn't last past noon; Bob sent me home to get some sleep. By then they all knew about my nightmares and were suggesting I 'talk to somebody.' When it was brought up, I laughed, which didn't help my case any, since they didn't know what was so funny. Come to think of it, Al was probably gone so much because he was in therapy with Beeks. I wondered why Goddess/God would send a couple of obviously psychologically unbalanced people as others only hope. That was even funnier, but I had to hold my laughter. If they saw me laughing to myself, they'd really think I flipped. I had a feeling they were right, but I didn't want them to know it. I only wished I knew why it still mattered.

But hey, I was on a roll. Bob came home that night with exciting news for the family. His friends at the Legion Hall had introduced him to a couple of Agents of Fortune. If he was willing to finance them, they'd go into Vietnam and search for Bobby. At last, after all these years, they saw a possible light at the end of the tunnel. Even if the search turned up remains, they'd at least know for sure.

Another family meeting decided in favor of the wild chance. Their choice, right? Their life. And once it was over, it would be over, because I got them to agree that if the search came up empty they'd go to family therapy. And...guess what? Have Bobby declared legally dead. I was so proud of myself I wanted to scream.

Al showed up while I was soaking in the tub, trying to cleanse myself of all that pride. “Sam, we gotta talk.”

I giggled, earning a studied look. “No, we don't. I did what I was _supposed_ to do, what you told me to. Soon it'll be over.”

“Sam, listen to me...”

“You'd do anything for me, and have. The least I could do was reciprocate. It may not agree with my own twisted idea of logical, but that's not a problem anymore.”

“You're talking weird, Sam,” Al told me.

“See what I mean?”  
“They hired mercenaries!” Al tried to get through to me, as if I couldn't understand him.

“No shit.”

“Sam...” he continued in an exasperated tone. “You read the articles. Most of those guys are con artists... it could wipe out their whole life savings and a lot more. Destroy their life worse than it is already!”

“You're impossible to please, do you know that?” My eyes traveled up and down his body, basking in a rare chance to gaze appreciatively. I called upon my memory of what he had felt like in my arms, what it felt like to be deep inside him as he surrendered to me...

“But I'd like to try,” I purred.

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” Al exclaimed, taking in the look on my face.

I thought for a moment. “Okay, so I'll go with them. If I'm there, they won't be able to rip anybody off.” My cock was asking for a little attention, so I grasped it in a wet hand, stroking lightly at first.

I thought my suggestion about going with them was a good idea, but Al reacted as if I'd said the worst possible thing imaginable. “You are _not_ going with them... oh, Jesus...” he croaked as his gaze fell to my hand.

Maybe he thought it an inappropriate time, but the desire had seized me, demanding action. The warm water enveloped me like supple flesh, gentle waves caused by my movements rocking me.

I locked my half opened eyes with Al's unbelieving ones. “If you don't join me, I'm going to make you come in your pants,” I warned.

I slowly built the rhythm, letting the water lull me into my fantasy world. As far as I was concerned, Al didn't need to take off any clothes. My photographic memory did quite nicely.

He was staring at my working hand, hypnotized.

“I remember the comment you made about Annie,” I told him. “But she's just a place to get a little warmth and comfort, escape from the nightmares and loneliness, _You're_ the one I ache for now.”

Al's breathing was becoming heavier, but he still made no more at all, in either direction.

“You make my body come alive,” I whispered. “I can't forget the time we were together. I can feel your hands on my body even now. Your tongue sliding over mine... oh god!” I cried out as a burst of pleasure surged through me at my images, bringing me closer to the edge. I pumped harder, faster. “I can even taste you, Al... feel your cock grow harder in my mouth... what it felt like to be inside you. You wrapped your legs around my waist so tight...”

I heard Al let out a long, shuddering breath.

“You wanted me there. I could barely believe it, but you were pulling me in deeper, begging for more... Oh god, Al!” I felt the orgasm overtake me violently. “Al...” I sighed his name, closing my eyes. For a breathless moment the universe stopped. All sound save breathing ceased in the bathroom.

When I finally recovered enough to open my eyes, I noted the wet spot on Al's pants with satisfaction. “It's gonna be embarrassing walking out of the Imaging Chamber like that,” I commented.

Al knelt down by the edge of the tub. “Sam, I know I don't have any control over you anymore, nothing I can do or say will make you listen. So, I'm _begging_ you... don't go with them to Vietnam. Please.” His eyes pleaded as well.

“Why?” I couldn't stop myself from asking.

Al regarded me for a moment before answering. “Do I have to have a reason now, too?”

“I tried to do what you asked,” I whispered. “Somehow it all got messed up. Al...”

“Just make me that promise,” he said.

“What if I don't leap?”

“Hey... when have you known me not to have an ace up my sleeve? I'll come up with a way out of this. Do you really think I'd give up on you that easily?”

I stared at him. He thought he was reassuring me, but I couldn't help wonder which one of us was really going crazy. We were back to not giving up on me but asking me to give up on him and Bobby. Somehow, it didn't make sense. “...I promise, Al,” I finally said in resignation.

XXX

The more I thought about it, the more I began to believe it was really Al having the breakdown. His and Ziggy's way still felt wrong to me. No matter what I did, I couldn't shake that feeling. Granted, my thinking might be a little cloudy, but I'd always followed my instincts... well, not always, but the times I insisted on doing things my way, a part of me knew it was wrong and didn't care. Like with Donna.

While Annie and I were at the library, I went off by myself to do some serious thinking. With the help of a couple of books, I came to my decision.

Whether I'd end up trapped in time or not, my first concern was this family. Especially when my own 'lofty' ideals as Al called them, my gut instincts, were telling me to do the same. No one had the right to force someone against their own free will. Whether good choices or bad. The missing servicemen might want their families to forget and get on with the lives, but it was up to each individual. Not to me, not to the MIAs, but to each of them. When I told Al I'd never give up on him like Beth had, I meant it. If I were her, I would have waited until the end of time if necessary. Nothing anyone could say would change my mind, not even Al. And he didn't have the right.

The Newfiles knew what bobby would want them to do, and they had made their decisions regardless. I was now convinced of what force ran the universe, and while I didn't believe God would strike me down with lightning for not obeying, it wasn't a force to fuck with.

Now that we'd all made our choices, it was time to act accordingly. I felt responsible for the mercenaries being brought in, and to trust strangers with that much money was unwise. If there was going to be a trip to Vietnam, one of us should be following through by going along.

XXX

I met with the mercenaries at the Legion bar late that night. After a brief greeting and drink ordering, we got down to business.

I slid the envelope with the family savings across the table toward them, keeping my hand on it. “No offense, but since we're giving you so much money, I want to go along.”

The one named Manny shook his head. “We don't take innocent civilians into the jungles of 'Nam.”

“I've been there before, I can give you a hand. Trust me, I wouldn't be in the way. And I take full responsibility for whatever happens.”

“If you think we're cheating you, why are you giving us the money? We could con you just as easily right under your nose,” he added.

“We're desperate,” I admitted. “And it's my brother-in-law, I want to be there.”

Manny pushed the envelope back towards me. “The answer's still no, so I guess you'll have to find yourselves someone else to do it.

“Why don't you hire the A-Team,” an older man who was called John suggested, snickering.

“Look,” Manny continued. “We don't pretend to perform miracles. Which is what it is every time some MIA is found – one way or the other. We sell a service to people who have no where else to turn. The government doesn't care, all you get from them is bullshit.”

John was nodding. “They want you to believe most of the reports about MIAs are hoaxes and most of us are con men preying on desperate families. Yet they don't have anything better to offer you. And some of _them_ are con men as well.”

“When we go into 'Nam, we have to bribe, buy information. Sometimes the information we get may be false, through no fault of our own. All in all, how can you tell the con men from the honest ones? You don't. You make your choice and take your chances. At least you're doing _something_. You can say you tried your best.”

I had no choice but to agree. Sometimes peace of mind comes expensive. I handed him the money. “Good luck.”

XXX

Al popped in shortly after I returned home. The others were visiting Molly's father so we were alone.

I put down the book I was reading and waited, but he stood silently. _What now?_ I thought. Finally, I prompted him. “Hello?”

“I didn't think you could do it,” he commented shortly.

“Do what?” I asked, mystified.

“Push me—this close--” Al held up two fingers, almost touching, “to saying _fuck you_!”

I stared at him in astonishment. “What are you talking about?”

“You _promised_ ,” he said in a low voice, almost a growl.

It was one of those rare times I was glad he was a hologram. “Uh, I...” I stammered.

“ _What was that?_ ” he commanded in a clipped tone.

I had the urge to stand at attention. “I thought it over and realized everyone has a right to free choice and I just wanted to protect their interests,” I rambled quickly, not sure he would let me finish my explanation.

“Free choice?” Al rasped gutterally. “ _Free choice_?!” he yelled, taking a step closer to my chair. He stopped as if not trusting himself to come further, stood staring at me evenly. If looks could kill, as they say...

I shifted uncomfortably.

Al's left hand curled into a fist. “You, mister, have gone too far. Do you know what I would do if I had _free_ choice?”

I shook my head mutely. Then nodded. Well, I had a pretty good idea. A couple of them, actually, considering the fist at his side.

My brain was beginning to work again, slowly. He had a right to be angry, but what he was saying was wrong. He did have free choice. I wasn't sure I wanted to bring that up, though. It wouldn't help me win the argument.

I chose my most pathetically sad gaze and looked up at him. “I was wrong. I know it's not good enough, but it's all I've got.” The moment it was out, I knew I'd said the wrong thing. I would have been better off sticking to yes Admiral, no Admiral.”

Al's eyes grew even more fiery. “Your power over me really gets you off, doesn't it? Well, here's something you should know... sometimes, I actually hate you.”

A gasp of shock escaped me. If my expression reflected even half the impact of the blow, it must have been a sight. I buried my face in my hands.

“If my getting on my knees and begging you doesn't mean anything to you, that's your free choice. But I warn you – if you ever break a promise to me again, _ever_... I won't be responsible for my reactions.”

I would have sworn the Imaging Chamber door slammed shut as he left.

I sat there for a long time, going over _my_ possible reactions. My first impulse was to get drunk, or in some other way have one of my famous temper tantrums. I felt ashamed, I hurt. I wanted to cry in pain, or shout in anger. I fought against letting the emotions overrun me, stopped myself from blowing them out of perspective. I might have made a mess of things, but I was making progress. I was learning to grow up. Every small step was a victory.

XXX

Al showed up two hours later.

I was curled up on the couch with a glass of white wine and listening to some music. I'd chosen Cher's 'new' album, “Love Hurts.” Fitting choice, under the circumstances. One of the songs, called _One Small Step_ , seemed especially appropriate, so I sang along with it softly.

_So many people need to go so many miles_

_How do we move them to where the answer lies_

_Reach out to the ocean, beyond the stars that shine_

_We've got to take one small step in time..._

“Hi,” I smiled at Al's arrival. I think he nearly fell on his butt from my pleasant greeting.

He cleared his throat. “I, uh,”

The next song was _World Without Heroes_. I had a hero, although I didn't treat him very well. It reminded me of a better song I'd heard earlier, and a way to say I'm sorry.

“You know that Bette Midler song, “Wind Beneath My Wings?” I asked.

“Yeah...”

“If ever there was a perfect song from me to you, that's it.” The look in his eyes told me I had him, but that wasn't what I wanted anymore. I held up a hand to forestall any comments. “Growing up's not easy, but oh baby, I'm trying. I guess that's why I need you so much.”

“Oh, Sam...”

I cut him off again. “Love means never having to say you're sorry.”

Al let out a laugh/sob. “Oh god!” He was silent for a minute. “Do you think I have a shot at growing up too?” he asked.

“You're doing better than I am,” I told him sincerely. “I've got another song for you. _I broke some promises, sometimes I lied to you, but one thing will always be true, I'll never stop loving you.”_

“At least we agree on _something_.”

We laughed together. “What about the leap?” I asked reluctantly.

Al shrugged. “Guess we'll know when those mercenaries change something. And if.” He sighed. “Maybe if the family does lose everything, it'll be what they need to convince them to give up.”

“Al?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel it my duty as your lover to point out that sometimes, you don't make much sense.”

“Guess whose fault that is?” he countered. “You make me crazy. But... I guess that's my free will?”

“No, mine.” I laughed. “Seriously, Al, it was my free choice to give myself to you. You know I'm yours, it's not a one-way street. You think you've lost all control over me, when you have more than you _ever_ did! That's why I tried to go against my instincts. It just felt too wrong. So I tried. And if this doesn't work, I'll do it your way.”

“No, I was wrong,” Al said. “I don't listen to you enough. Hell, I'm the one who's usually wrong. I sure proved that this leap. Every single thing I tried to do to help you blew up in my face.”

“You too?” I asked in a mock-amazed tone. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think the Goddess ought to give this job to someone more... normal.”

“Yeah,” Al agreed. “Maybe the Addams Family.”

XXX

It was a week before we heard anything. The time went by fast, probably because it was pleasant. Al and I spent some time together, enjoying each other's company and repairing some of the damage we'd managed to do to our relationship. There was still the possibility I'd failed, but somehow, I wasn't worried. Neither was Al, and while he'd never come right out and said anything, I had my own suspicions about what some of those aces of his might be.

Then the call came. There had been no sign or word of Bobby Newfile in Vietnam... except that a ring of his had shown up in a pawn shop.

We were gathered in the living room, having a family meeting to discuss the news. There were a lot of tears, and a sense of closure I never expected. I was flabbergasted when Bob and Molly informed us that they were going to hold memorial services for their dead son.

I stared at them. “I don't understand...” I had expected the news of the jewelry would reinvigorate their hopes, not the opposite.

Bob put a hand on my shoulder. “That ring was passed down from his grandfather. He never took it off, _never_. That means only one thing. He _is_ dead.”

XXX

Two days later I was standing with the family in the cemetery, listening to the service compete with a loud wind that blew fiercely. Al was beside me, wearing his Navy Whites. The noise covered our quiet conversation.

“Well that's it,” he said. “They can get on with their lives now.”

“I guess you were right after all,” I told him.

Al shook his head. “We both were. And, we were both wrong.”

I sighed. “I still don't feel...right about it,” I admitted. “I guess it's just my own hang-up.”

“I know.” Al nodded. “The whole subject still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, too. But like you said, this is their choice.”

I couldn't argue with my own arguments. We paid our respects in silence until the service was over. Then I walked over to the car to wait for the family to say their last goodbyes.

Al peered at me through narrowed eyes. “You never told me what those nightmares were about.” His gaze belied the casual way it was said.

“What else? Vietnam.”

“Yeah, that's what I figured. If you ever want to talk about it...”

“If you ever want to talk about _your_ time there...” I countered, knowing he most probably never would tell me about those things, not under the circumstances.

Al glanced away, and I knew he got my meaning.

“I'm stronger than I seem,” I commented noncommittally. I stared out toward the headstones, and took a deep breath. “Al, what became of the other POWs that were with you?” I turned back to him.

The look on Al's face told me he wasn't expecting that question. I knew he wanted to pursue the topic of _why_ I was asking, but he didn't ask. Maybe he was afraid, too. We both had a vested interest in letting it be. Instead, he just answered me.

“George Baker got released when I did.” He paused infinitesimally. “Phillip Parks died of exposure, the year before.”

Our eyes met.

“I love you, Al.” _Thank you._

Al smiled slightly. The last thing I saw was my hologram, saluting me solemnly as I leaped out.

_Did you ever know that you are my hero?_

_Everything I would like to be_

_I could fly higher than the eagles_

_If you were the wind beneath my wings..._

**the end**

2/5/92

*One Small Step, by Mann/Waldman/Parker, sung by Cher

Wind Beneath my Wings, by Silbar/Henley, sung by Bette Midler


End file.
